


A Demon's Form

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aphrodisiacs, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, M/M, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Oral Sex, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Aziraphale has been talking for far too long about theirtrueforms for it to be anything less than a true interest. The question is just how deep does that interest go? As it turns out, Aziraphale had planned for this better than Crowley could have intended, and he will go to lengths to show Crowley how much he enjoys this form of his.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 458
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	A Demon's Form

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sssnakelady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssnakelady/gifts).



> Here's my second piece for the good omens holiday swap. I hope this is everything you were looking for and that everyone can enjoy this!
> 
> Happy Holidays!

Aziraphale had done a great deal of talking about _true forms_. Like they were something otherworldly and magical, and maybe they were. Aziraphale certainly seemed to think that they were, and if he talked on enough about it, maybe Crowley would believe him. That would have to be weeks of talking, though. Especially when Aziraphale’s monologue had been led directly into describing his own true form. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to know that Aziraphale, at his core, wasn’t what he appeared. Crowley wasn’t either.

The shocking part was just wherein Aziraphale’s _true form_ wasn’t even a body, not in the way humans thought of them. Not really a body at all, but just an appearance. Like a feeling. A soft sort of light that appeared and, often, might look as though it had a multitude of eyes or wings. Neither of these things was strictly true, but it was something that could be seen, in the right sort of feeling or mood. Angels were feelings and moods, after all; it was just how they appeared. That was the frightening aspect, that angels were everything and nothing at all once. Not quite something humans had ever been particularly good at wrapping their minds around.

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how to continue describing it, after that. There was a funny bit of regret in his voice when he reached the part about how metaphysical it all was. Like he was there, but not there. That was the precise reason angels tended to look a way in Heaven, similar to their corporation. It made communication simpler, and communication was the only way they’d ever been able to maintain the sort of well-oiled force they had. That hadn’t ever meant their real forms didn’t exist, though.

“Too bad about that, I mean,” Aziraphale suddenly said. “The whole lacking a true, physical form. Might have been fun.”

If Crowley had been drinking tea, he might have spat it out. Up until that incredible moment, Aziraphale had been rather _averse_ to talking anything about their physical relationship. Crowley preferred the term coy, because it wasn’t as if Aziraphale didn’t enjoy every waking second they spent wrapped around each other. Something about honor; Crowley never really paid attention. He thought an angel’s view on sex were rather biased and skewed; he much preferred his own. So that. _That_ little comment. Crowley needed to be sure he’d heard what he thought he heard.

“Physical form?” Crowley gawked. “What exactly—what are you getting at, angel?”

“Oh, surely, you already know,” Aziraphale said. His face was a bit flushed, and he was finding a sudden interest in his cocoa that he hadn’t before.

“Yes, well. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t assuming. You know how bad that can I get.”

“Indeed. I appreciate it, my dear, but I think you’ve understood me correctly.”

So, that was it, then. Aziraphale had worked himself up about their true forms, because he’d had some ridiculous notion that there was to be fucking involved. Only, his true form wasn’t so much a form as it was a metaphysical representation of energy, which mean it a bit difficult to spread himself out the way he was so inclined to. He didn’t look overly disappointed to have come to this conclusion, though. In fact, he still looked rather coy about the whole thing.

“What about you, Crowley? You, surely, must have a true form.”

Again, if Crowley had been drinking, he would have spat it out over the coffee table. Thankfully, he wasn’t drinking. Or eating. Or thinking, really, not anymore. Aziraphale had just asked him _that_ with such a look on his face that Crowley wouldn’t have any room for misunderstanding. If Aziraphale’s true form couldn’t be fucked, well, maybe he was hoping that Crowley’s true form could fuck.

“I—I do,” Crowley said. “You’ve seen it.” In the garden. The snake thing, he meant.

Aziraphale didn’t buy a second of that explanation, and he made his disbelief known with a bit of a scoffing laugh. He curled his legs up into the armchair and opened a book in his lap. He’d set it aside to talk, but now he was making a show that if Crowley wasn’t going to entertain him, he wasn’t going to engage. Really, Aziraphale was nothing but a brat.

“Alright, alright,” Crowley sighed. “It’s just—it’s not much to look at. Demons don’t have true _forms_ like you’re talking. It’s more like a core thing, or something. What’s the word—essence,” he hissed. He didn’t care for the explanation. It sounded so pretty and poetic; demons weren’t any of those things. It was really just a reveal of what sort of nasty creature they really were. Nothing to look at. Certainly, nothing Aziraphale would want to fall into bed with.

“Couldn’t I be the judge of that?” Aziraphale asked, smiling. He had his cup to his lips, but he hadn’t quite sipped. He took a sip then and nestled the cup in his lap. “The way you look, I mean. I’ve never seen what you truly look like, and I must say, I’m quite curious.”

Crowley gave a strange, grimacing smile. “Probably wouldn’t kill me,” he said. “Probably.”

“Oh, come now. If you truly don’t want to, I’d rather you tell me than let me get my hopes up.”

“No, no. We can,” Crowley said. “I’ll show you.” He always had such a rough time denying Aziraphale anything, especially when Aziraphale looked so happy after that comment. He wiggled down in his seat and looked particularly comfortable, those stupid little readers pushed up his nose.

“It’s just—you’re sure this is what you want, angel?” Crowley asked. “I’m not _against_ it. It’s just, well. You may not like what you see.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, entirely,” Aziraphale said. He gave Crowley a gentle little smile. “I love you. I couldn’t possibly stop that simply because you’ll look a bit different. I’ve seen you in many forms over the years.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Something about it made Crowley feel a bit better.

His confidence disappeared precisely three days later, when they had decided for this little arrangement to come together. Aziraphale was going to be over at the flat in precisely thirteen minutes, and Crowley was still busy staring at himself in the mirror. Moving through his flat was a hassle like this, so he’d asked if Aziraphale could just let himself in. They could meet in the bedroom, Aziraphale could decide he was disgusted, and the rest would be history.

That’s what Crowley feared, anyway. There was a bit of hope somewhere that Aziraphale would be so taken with how he looked in this form that things would go just as Aziraphale seemed to be hinting that they would. They’d fall into Crowley’s over-sized bed, and Crowley would spend the rest of the night with his body wrapped in coils around Aziraphale. Ideally, he might even be inside him. It was, really, whatever Aziraphale wanted. Crowley would be fine with it.

Crowley sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself out of the bathroom. He wouldn’t be fine if Aziraphale decided that this was a disgusting mistake, and that was something big to admit to himself. They’d come so far that Crowley didn’t think he’d be ready to go back to something less loving, less perfect. Now that he’d had a taste of Aziraphale, he wouldn’t be letting go easily. Unless, Aziraphale wanted him to. Crowley was a particular sort of mess about that thought.

Five minutes left. Crowley didn’t think he’d just give in, if Aziraphale decided to end it all for this. He’d fight for their relationship, he would. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to walk away from Aziraphale. Whatever promises he had to make, he’d make them. He’d promise to never look like this again. He’d promise all the food Aziraphale could wish for. All of the anything and whatever—Crowley would do anything he had to. If that had all failed. Well. Crowley wouldn’t think about that.

The five minutes had passed, and Crowley perked up a bit when he heard the door open. Aziraphale announced himself, and Crowley sat down on the edge of the bed. The best that he could, anyway. He was down to mere seconds before Aziraphale saw him. He hoped that he was everything Aziraphale was dreaming about.

When Aziraphale stepped into the bedroom, Crowley had expected _anything_ other than what he got. Anything from an overly jovial greeting to an immediate look of disgust. Instead, Aziraphale froze in the doorway and stared at him, bugged eyes and a twitching lip. Like he wanted to smile, but he wasn’t quite sure how to form one, anymore.

Crowley’s hair was long and unfurled, his eyes a solid gold with black slit pupils. There were scales peppered around his face, down his neck, over his chest. His bare chest. All of his skin was bare, speckled in scales, all the way down to his hips, that vanished away into a long, sleek black tail with a red underbelly. Aziraphale recognized the color scheme, at least, from Eden. He was so terribly taken with it that all he could do was stare.

In this form, Crowley didn’t even seem to have proper hands. Midway down his forearm, the scales thickened until they covered his skin entirely like a heavy plate mail. His hands had turned bumpy and rigid, where his fingers were thicker than normal. Longer. Where his nails were claws instead of nails. Aziraphale wished the very sight of them didn’t turn him on the way that they did, where he could already feel an uncomfortable wet spot forming in his trousers.

Oh, the things those claws would be able to do. They could hold Aziraphale down and make a helpless piece of prey out of him. Aziraphale always liked it when Crowley lost control, when he got a bit rough. He could do the most amazing things to Aziraphale, and Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to stop him. One of those claws planted firmly over his chest would keep him there, immobile. They couldn’t do anything else, but Aziraphale wasn’t thinking about that.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley finally asked. He shifted a bit uncomfortably, where he sat.

“Yes—Yes, I mean. Rather,” Aziraphale stiffened up. “I’m wonderful. I’m well. I’m aroused, I think.”

Crowley nearly snorted. “You’re _aroused_. You _think_? Aziraphale—”

“No, I most certainly am. My. This isn’t what I expected, but I’m certainly not disappointed. Did you think I would be?” Aziraphale asked.

“Thought you’d be disgusted,” Crowley admitted.

“Oh, quite the opposite, I’m afraid. I think if you haven’t divested me of my clothing in the next minute, I might discorporate.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, my dear.”

If that was how Aziraphale felt, then Crowley would certainly, certainly entertain him. He slithered across the room on the bend of his tail until he was hovering directly in front of Aziraphale, looking at him. In this form, Crowley could stand a whole foot taller than Aziraphale if he wanted to, and part of him did. Part of him wanted to look down at Aziraphale like he was _prey_. Aziraphale would shiver underneath him, submit like he always did. It would be a beautiful sight, but Crowley held it back.

Instead, he dipped down to Aziraphale’s level and dragged a claw along his cheek. Aziraphale gasped with the sudden touch, a quiet little intake of breath that Crowley barely heard, but he saw it. He pulled his claw away immediately; he would do this, but he wouldn’t _hurt_ Aziraphale. Even if every nerve in his body was screaming at him to take, take, _take_. That’s what he _did_. He was a demon. He should be able to just grab this angel and bend him over the bed—but it was Aziraphale. Aziraphale deserved better.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. He reached out and grabbed Crowley’s claw before he could pull away entirely. “I was just surprised, that’s all. You didn’t hurt me. I know you wouldn’t.”

“What if I can’t stop myself?” Crowley whispered.

“I’ll stop you. You know I would. Right now—” Aziraphale stepped closer. He pulled until Crowley’s claw was resting on his hip, and then reached for Crowley’s remaining claw. That one, he pressed into his chest. “I want you. I want you more than anything. However you’ll have me, Crowley. Please.”

Crowley wasn’t sure he’d be able to argue that, even if he tried. He was helpless to it. All he could do was grab Aziraphale by the hips and hoist him up into the air—his claws wouldn’t hurt him. He’d be sure of that. He took Aziraphale over to the bed and pressed his back down into the mattress. They were locked in a heavy kiss the second Aziraphale could get his arms around Crowley’s neck, yanking him down close so their chests pressed together.

Oh, Aziraphale was too clothed. Crowley pushed away, shuddering with the desperate little whimper Aziraphale let out form the sudden loss. Crowley pressed his claw down into Aziraphale’s chest to keep him in place and went for his trousers. He stopped short, just before he tore into the seam of them—sure, he could miracle the clothes away, but there was no fun in that. Miracles were impersonal and rushed. It was always more fun to unwrap Aziraphale like a meal to be savored. Now, with these _snake_ instincts coursing through his veins, he wanted to that more than anything.

He didn’t want to rip Aziraphale’s clothes, though. So, he had another idea. What a thought it would be to see how desperate Aziraphale was for this, for _him._ He pressed his claw down into Aziraphale’s chest just a little harder, to really immobilize him. Then, he leaned down to whisper into Aziraphale’s ear, so close that his lips brushed into the shell of it.

“I’m going to bite you,” Crowley whispered. “You’re going to be so desperate for me, you’ll listen to everything I say, won’t you? Because if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll be _nice_.”

Aziraphale shuddered. “Y-yes, Crowley, _please_.”

Crowley’s teeth sunk down a second later, the sharp points of them, right into the pulse of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale’s neck was warm against Crowley’s lips, and he couldn’t help but kiss around his bite until it was time to pull away. What he left in his wake were two, small little holes. Almost indiscernible. But the venom worked quickly. Crowley could _feel_ Aziraphale’s heart rate pick up in his ribcage, the warmth that suddenly radiated out of his body. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped down in a silent cry as he was overtaken with _need_.

“Crowley—” Aziraphale gasped. “Oh—oh, Crowley, what did you do—?”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Crowley smirked. “Little something of my own. We’ll call it _Lust_ , shall we?”

The second Crowley pulled his claw away, Aziraphale was scrambling to undo his buttons, his zippers. Anything that was keeping clothes _on_ him needed to get _off_. His skin was burning, desperate—he needed to have Crowley’s hand on him, directly. The faster he could have that, the better he would feel. The more relieved. Satisfied. Oh, he wanted to be satisfied. He wanted to be _used_. These feelings all crested all at once, and Aziraphale couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough.

Crowley just watched with hungry eyes as Aziraphale disrobed himself. He was so desperate, with only one drop of venom. Crowley wouldn’t let that bite mark heal for _weeks_ if he could help it. He wanted to remember this forever, for as long as he could. Aziraphale, so desperate for touch that he certainly broke a few buttons of his favorite blouse. Once all of the clothes were gone, Crowley finally got to see that wide expanse of shuddering skin. Oh, Aziraphale looked beautiful.

Without even being asked, Aziraphale spread his thighs apart for Crowley. Nestled up between them was his fat, dripping cunt. Crowley licked his lips and dropped down immediately, one, hulking claw pressed over each of Aziraphale’s thighs to keep them apart. He didn’t give Aziraphale so much as a warning before he dove in between those thick lips of his, licking a hard stripe through the slit between. His tongue was forked and long, and he pressed the whole of it through Aziraphale’s folds just to hear the way he gasped.

Aziraphale’s hands shot down to grip his hands through Crowley’s hair, to ground himself. Crowley pulled away immediately, peeling Aziraphale’s hands away from him and dropping them over Aziraphale’s chest. He pressed his claw back into Aziraphale’s thigh.

“Hands to yourself, angel,” Crowley warned. “I don’t like when the prey is _touchy,_ _”_ came his growl.

Aziraphale nodded hurriedly and gripped into the sheets around his head to keep from touching. It was a cruel thing to do, but it pleased Crowley immensely. Aziraphale was eager to follow any order he was given; there was an endless amount of fun that Crowley could have with that. He was certainly going to test it. First, he was going to reward Aziraphale.

Crowley leaned down to press his tongue into Aziraphale’s cunt, again. He pressed the very tip of his forked tongue into Aziraphale’s clit, and Aziraphale moaned out so prettily for him. His thighs shuddered under their hold; his hips desperate to move down into Crowley’s mouth. He was entirely immobile—and he couldn’t even touch. All he could do was lay there through every slobbering lick, every mouth over of Crowley’s lips. Every touch Crowley gave him was a burning press of pleasure, and Aziraphale could only take it.

He wanted it so bad. He wanted more. When Crowley’s tongue fucked into him, he nearly shouted. He groaned and rocked under Crowley’s hold, but there was nowhere for him to go. Crowley was so slow and deliberate about where he touched, how he pressed his tongue inside. Aziraphale had no control over how much, _how much_ , there was inside of him. When Crowley’s tongue curled in over itself, right up against that spot inside him, Aziraphale spasmed. He cried out. He—

Crowley pulled away before Aziraphale could come. Aziraphale’s climax nearly tipped over, halted, and died back down while Crowley watched him with eyes hungrier with each passing second. Aziraphale whimpered and whined, but still, he couldn’t so much as move. All he could do was stare up at Crowley while Crowley pondered his next move.

“You look good enough to _eat_ ,” Crowley said. “Not quite good enough to finish. I’m sure you can understand. A pretty thing like you? A monster like me?” Crowley leaned down so, when he hissed, his tongue brushed out over Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale was desperate for a kiss that Crowley wouldn’t give him. He was desperate for anything Crowley _would_.

“I like to play with my food,” Crowley growled.

Aziraphale shuddered and nodded all at once, his lips parted, and his eyes foggy. Oh, he wanted this, so badly. He would give anything for it.

Crowley took his hands off Aziraphale’s thighs, only to pull himself onto the bed. The very end of his tail coiled up around Aziraphale’s legs to keep them tightly pressed together; Aziraphale wouldn’t have been able to sneak even a finger down to his cunt. That was the point. Aziraphale was here for Crowley’s pleasure, and he knew it. He wouldn’t dare try to touch himself if Crowley hadn’t commanded. It wouldn’t be able to, really, with how his legs were all wrapped up.

The rest of him was free and held up above the bed with the bend in Crowley’s tail. Crowley hovered above him, and it was only then that Aziraphale realized how _big_ Crowley was, like this. Not big, but long. There was so much of him; he was _everywhere_ and dangling over Aziraphale’s sternum was the only part of Crowley that Aziraphale could think about right now. Poking out from between the spread-out space in his scales were two cocks, long with thing, flat heads and thick bases.

It wasn’t the first time Aziraphale had seen Crowley’s cock—it wasn’t even the first time he’d had two of them. It was, however, the first time Crowley’s cocks presented them in such a fashion, with ridges along the underside and a light spattering of _barbs_. Aziraphale should have questioned it. He should have at least been _concerned_ , but he wasn’t. He only shuddered and let his jaw fall open a little farther: a quiet plea for Crowley to feed one of those cocks right down his throat. Maybe both.

Instead, Crowley dipped his hips down loud enough that he could rub his cocks through the pale expanse of skin between the mounds of Aziraphale’s tits. Oh, they weren’t _real_ tits. Not true, voluptuous, bouncing things like he had when he was a woman, but Aziraphale had always had that beautiful extra layer of fat on him. Crowley was dripping just at the thought of it, his precum leaving little droplets on Aziraphale’s skin.

Aziraphale groaned at the drag of those ridged, barbed cocks over him. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t tug—it just felt _good_. That, and Crowley had braced himself with his claws on either side of Aziraphale’s head. He was trapped, helpless, and suspended. All he could do was watch Crowley’s cocks drag over his sternum; he couldn’t even talk; he was so overwhelmed with pleasure. There was no reason for this to feel as good as it did, but Aziraphale knew he was dripping. He could feel that ache grow between his thighs.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley suddenly said, his voice demanding. “Do you want to be good for me?”

A question—Aziraphale had to answer. “Y-yes, Crowley,” he gasped out. “I do—I want to be so good, please. Please—”

“Hush, angel. I need you to do something for me. Your lovely little tits here, push them together. Give me a nice warm place to _fuck_.”

Aziraphale rushed to comply, pressing his hands into the side of his chest. His tits filled out with the pressure, squeezed up against Crowley’s cocks to provide him just what he was looking for. Crowley groaned appreciatively, moving his hips again. Every drag smeared more slick over Aziraphale’s chest. Every drag had Crowley struggling to maintain his composure. Aziraphale’s skin was so hot, so plush. Perfect. The perfect place to bury himself.

There wouldn’t be a single crevice of Aziraphale’s body left untouched, after this. Of that, Crowley was sure. He wanted to bury himself into every roll, every hill of fat he could find. He wanted to show Aziraphale how much he _loved_ the way he looked, even if as far as he could think was how he wanted to put his teeth on Aziraphale, suck pretty marks into him. Crowley was groaning with his own thoughts, fucking through Aziraphale’s tits with an unfounded urgency.

Crowley didn’t stop fucking forward until his pleasure crested, all at once, deep in his pelvis. The resounding shudder took his entire body, and he finished. His seed shout out and landed over Aziraphale’s chest, his neck, the underside of his chin. Aziraphale had even opened his mouth in attempts to taste some of it, but to no avail. He was left in a covered mess, and it was only after Crowley’s orgasm settled that he noticed Aziraphale’s fingers circling over his nipples, making his hips twitch and little moans break from his throat.

“Oh,” Crowley hummed, “I see. You can’t wait for me to properly dress you, can you? You can’t wait for _me_ to decide you’ve earned your pleasure. You think you’re able to give it to yourself.”

“No—No, Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, his hands dropping away, immediately.

“By all means, then. Touch yourself.”

Aziraphale hesitated. Every inch of his body _screamed_ to obey Crowley, to do what he’d said. But he’d just been scolded for touching himself. Surely, Crowley couldn’t mean for him to continue.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley leaned down over him until their noses nearly touched. “I said _touch_ yourself. Put your hands on your tits and _squeeze_ , angel. I want you squirming. I want you _begging_.”

“Crowley—but, but you said—”

“I _said_ to touch yourself. Naughty angels need to be taught a lesson, and if you truly think that _anything_ other than my touch is good enough for, I certainly haven’t taught you well enough.” Crowley pulled away then, curved back in such a way that Aziraphale could see his cocks, how they were both still straining with arouse. “Touch yourself, angel. Go on. I want to watch,” he hissed.

Aziraphale shuddered, but he finally gave into that carnal desire to _obey_. He brought his fingers up to tentatively ghost over his nipples, and that was all he needed. The burst of pleasure was motivation enough, if not for the way Crowley was staring at him like he was _meat_. Aziraphale grabbed at his own tits, squeezing and molding his flesh. He had his nipples between his fingers, rolling them and tugging. He wanted to be rough with himself; he wanted Crowley to be proud of him.

Every tug on his nipples, every grasp of his fat, had his body responding with shudders. He moaned through all of it. He even tried to squeeze his legs together a bit tighter, with the heat that was growing between them. His cunt pulsed, _ached_ for something to fill it. He needed Crowley inside him, and it was a near painful realization. Crowley would have been able to get him off like this, with his tongue over Aziraphale’s nipples, his nails digging into the soft flesh of him. Aziraphale couldn’t do it for himself.

He let out a sudden cry of frustration, squeezing roughly over his nipples. He’d always had big, sensitive nipples. Angels weren’t really supposed to look so human, but Aziraphale _liked_ it. He’d crafted them himself, sitting perfectly in the middle of wide, red areolae. Crowley had always been able to bring him pleasure just like this, tugging and rubbing over the area. Aziraphale just—he couldn’t.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale suddenly gasped. “It’s not enough. I can’t—I can’t. It’s not right; it’s not _you_!” he cried out. There were tears brimming at his eyelids, but he couldn’t help himself. He was so desperate for release.

Aziraphale ran his fingers through the cum splayed out on his chest and used that to ease the friction of his fingers. He rubbed Crowley’s spend into his nipples, into the skin of his breast, trying to arch his back just so that there wasn’t an inch of happening that Crowley would miss. Crowley watched him, in turn, with a hungry look in his eyes.

“That’s the point, angel,” Crowley hissed. “You don’t _get_ to finish. Not until I say so. Not until I say you’re worth it.”

Aziraphale shuddered, whimpered, and nodded.

“You poor thing,” Crowley said in a mock sympathy. “You must be aching for something. What do you want?”

“I—I want your cocks, Crowley, _please._ I want to cum. I want to be stuffed full, I want—oh, Crowley, please—” Aziraphale gasped to himself, rolling over his nipples again. His whole body shivered with his pleasure, rolling pleasantly for Crowley’s viewing.

Crowley suddenly moved up, pulling himself along with his claws. The coil of his tail, around Aziraphale’s legs, loosened just slight enough for him to move freely. He came to rest over Aziraphale’s face, where Aziraphale could feel the heat of his body so properly. His cocks were fully hard, still dripping in their slick. It was everything Aziraphale wanted—he wanted to put his tongue on them, his mouth. He wanted to bury his face in the little space between them and suck on that spot until Crowley was coming.

Even with an open mouth, Aziraphale didn’t get what he wanted. Crowley didn’t feed him his cocks, like Aziraphale longed for. Instead, the heads of them rubbed into Aziraphale’s cheeks, his jaw—over his face. Aziraphale wanted so desperately to turn his head, to catch one of Crowley’s cocks on his lips and _suck_ —but he didn’t. He wouldn’t risk Crowley pulling away. If this is how Crowley wanted to use him, Aziraphale would revel in it. He would find his pleasure in anything Crowley wanted to do to him.

He even moaned when there was precum dripped onto his face. Crowley’s hips rolled so gently, but the rides and the barbs of his cocks made for friction against Aziraphale’s face. The spread of precum lessened it, intensified it. Aziraphale didn’t know anymore. All he knew was that Crowley’s cocks were on his face, and he wanted it so desperately, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He continued his own ministrations, tugging at his nipples, and moaning for it.

Aziraphale did start squirming, then, his hips shifting and writhing in Crowley’s grasp. He wanted friction _there_. He wanted the heat there. To fill his ache. It seemed to be just the thing Crowley wanted to feel, and he could feel every movement Aziraphale made against his scales; he angled his hips slightly to the right, and one of his cocks slipped right inside Aziraphale’s open, waiting mouth.

The ridges, the barbs, caught on his lips when Crowley sunk farther down. Aziraphale groaned around Crowley’s cock, accepting it as far back into his throat as he could. The other continued to rub it’s slick into Aziraphale’s face, and he couldn’t have asked for more. He moaned; if he could have taken both into his throat, he would have. There was nothing greater than the feeling of Crowley’s cock down his throat, dripping precum down for him like a _gift_.

Aziraphale made sure to curl his lips around his teeth, and then he sucked. Every thrust down his throat, he met it with enthusiastic moans, the clench of his throat. Anything he could do to bring Crowley pleasure, he made sure to do it. And how good it made _him_ feel, too. Aziraphale squeezed his thighs together a little tighter, desperate for something inside of him. He had to earn that. He had to earn it; Crowley had to decide for him, and he would decide when Aziraphale had _earned_ it.

He continued sucking, licking, anything he could do. The feel of Crowley’s ridges underneath his tongue was divine, positively extraordinary. He shuddered, and when Crowley’s hips started to stutter, he knew exactly what it meant. Crowley was close. Crowley would come down his throat and make him feel _so_ good. Aziraphale redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head, keeping his tongue in place so Crowley could rut against it. He was well rewarded, a moment later, when Crowley let out a loud groan with his climax.

Aziraphale swallowed everything Crowley had to offer, and he whimpered when Crowley pulled away from him. He wanted Crowley’s second cock, which was still hard and aching. He wanted to give it the same pleasure, the same release. He was desperate for it, but Crowley had something different in mind. When he pulled away, he pulled away entirely. Even the coils of his tail disappeared, until he had wrapped himself snuggly around only one of Aziraphale’s legs.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, ensuring to spread his thighs as far as he could.

Crowley tutted. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, angel. I didn’t say you’d earned anything, did I?” Crowley leaned down, close. Aziraphale still hadn’t had his kiss, not since the first one they’d shared, and he tried to reach for it. Crowley was just far enough away that it didn’t work.

“I don’t think you believe me yet,” Crowley continued. “You still think that there’s another touch good enough for you.”

“No—no, no, Crowley, no. I don’t. You’re the only one, please! You’re the only one who can please me!”

“I don’t think you believe that. I think you’re telling me what I want to hear. You think that being a desperate little whore will get you want you want, don’t you?”

“Crowley, no— _please_ ,” Aziraphale begged.

“Go on, then. Show me just what a little slut you are. That’s all you are, isn’t it? A slut.”

“I—I want to be _your_ slut, Crowley. Please,” Aziraphale whimpered.

“Earn it.”

Aziraphale nearly cried out with his frustration, but he did what he was told. What was implied, anyway, with the sudden rush of air between his thighs. He could reach down and touch himself, now, and that’s what Crowley wanted of him. He knew that it would _prove_ just how helpless Aziraphale was, without him. He needed Crowley’s attention to finish. He wouldn’t have it. Not in anything more than a hungry glance; Crowley wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t kiss him. He’d _watch_.

There were many things Aziraphale was good at, but self-control wasn’t one of them. Before he reached down with a tentative touch, he made sure to drag his fingers through the mess of cum on his chest. He wanted Crowley to _see_ just how badly he needed him. Only then did Aziraphale reach down between his thighs to touch. The first drag was a slow, sweet press of his cum covered fingers between his folds, from the bottom of his cunt right to his clit, where he stopped to rub little circles.

Aziraphale’s hips bucked in response to the touch; he was already so sensitive, so _close_. He thought that it might help, to have Crowley’s spend slicking his way. It didn’t. Nothing would. It wasn’t _Crowley_ touching him. Crowley was too busy with his palm wrapped around his own cock, stroking it in time with Aziraphale’s fingers. Aziraphale had never had much rhythm, on his own, but he kept his eyes on Crowley’s claw and tried to mimic it.

Everything _ached_ with want. It wasn’t something Aziraphale could avoid, not with Crowley’s venom thrumming through his veins. It wasn’t fair. He _needed_ Crowley to fuck him, but Crowley was just watching with blown pupils. Aziraphale just had to work harder. He just had to redouble his efforts. With his free hand, he stroked over his chest, his tender and swollen nipples. Then, he pressed a finger into himself and let his jaw drop open in a loud moan.

“Oh—Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped. He broke off into a litany of Crowley’s name, mixed with cries and whimpers, as he fucked his finger into himself.

“You look so beautiful like that,” Crowley said. His voice was suddenly softer than it had been. “You’re really working hard, aren’t you? I’m so _proud_ , angel.”

Aziraphale shivered. “I—I want you, Crowley. I need you. Please, please—please, it’s not enough. I can’t cum like this.”

“I know you can’t, angel,” Crowley grinned. He laid himself out on the bed besides Aziraphale so he could drag one long claw through his hair. “That’s the point, you know. I’m trying to teach you a lesson. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He tucked a second finger up inside of himself, gasping at the sudden stretch. It wasn’t as good as Crowley’s fingers, but it was all he had.

“Aren’t I kind to you? Anyone else might have just done away with you. My kind doesn’t _like_ disobedience. But I’m taking the time to show you how wrong you were.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” Aziraphale gasped. He tilted his head towards Crowley. “Crowley—”

“You’ve earned a little something for your troubles, I think.”

Crowley leaned in and kissed him, then, hard on the lips. Aziraphale’s entire body shuddered in response, and he moaned. Crowley’s mouth was so hot, and his tongue was carving over the crease of Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale opened for him immediately, moaning when Crowley’s tongue caressed around his teeth, his gums—even the roof of his mouth, where he was the most sensitive. Aziraphale cried out, then. With his fingers deep inside himself, stretching his cunt open, and Crowley’s tongue playing across all of the most sensitive parts in his mouth, he thought he might cum. His body was _ready_ to finish.

The kiss ended just before Aziraphale could find his climax. His pleasure died back down, almost immediately, and Crowley was even pulling Aziraphale’s hands away from himself. Aziraphale’s entire body was taut on a string. Crowley would just have to touch him, and he would cum. He was sure of it. Watching Crowley slither down to rest between his thighs was tantalizing. He fit perfectly, there.

Then, Crowley’s _cock_ was being pressed up into his cunt. Oh, Aziraphale could cry. The sudden rush of relief had him crying out, shivering just from touch alone. One move and Crowley would be _inside_ him, fucking him on that ridged, barbed cock he was sporting. Aziraphale couldn’t even imagine how good it would feel. He would have to imagine it.

Instead of fucking into him, the warm, wet, welcoming space of Aziraphale’s cunt, Crowley just rolled his hips. His cockhead dragged through Aziraphale’s lips, touching every inch of his cunt, until it topped out at his clit. Crowley seemed to spend special attention there, circling his hips, rubbing into that sensitive little nub. Aziraphale had always had a thick hood over top of it, but Crowley knew just how to work it. Just how to leave Aziraphale a shivering, sputtering mess.

“Look at you,” Crowley cooed. “My perfect little whore. My special little slut. You’re so beautiful for me, like this, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale nodded quickly.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me how perfect you are, angel.”

“I—I’m perfect,” Aziraphale shuddered out. It still felt so strange to say, but Crowley practically preened, hearing him say it. “I’m _beautiful_ ,” Aziraphale whispered. “I’m everything you’ve ever wanted. I—I’m your pretty little slut. You—” Aziraphale gasped at a particular roll of Crowley’s hips, his cockhead nearly catching on Aziraphale’s entrance. “You love me,” Aziraphale finally gasped out.

“Oh, I do,” Crowley replied. “I love you. I love the _size_ of you. I love how you spread your thighs for me. I love how you do whatever I ask.” He leaned down, closer to Aziraphale to hiss into his ear. “I love how much you care. How much you want to do good. You’re perfect, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale came, after that, with a sudden shout. Crowley stole him in a desperate kiss, but oh, Aziraphale cried out with his orgasm. His entire body was taken in a spasm, the pleasure shooting through him with unexpected intensity. There was a gush of slick from his cunt, but it didn’t deter Crowley. He had expert control—he had to, not being able to use his hands, properly. Crowley sunk right inside him, then, and plunged as deep as he could with one thrust.

There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation, not as Crowley’s instincts stole him. He was thrusting wildly, his body hunched over Aziraphale in the most possessive manner he could muster. He didn’t want a soul to see the way Aziraphale’s back had arched, how his head had gone back with a loud, open-mouthed moan. Aziraphale’s pleasure was _his_ , for his eyes only, for his consumption. He buried his face into Aziraphale’s neck to breathe deeply, to kiss and suck and lick at his skin.

Every touch Crowley offered sent Aziraphale into another spasm. Every drag of his cock—the ridges rubbed into his inner walls so perfectly. The barbs caught at his skin, but never hurt. They just pressed, rubbed, like a perfect massage inside of his body. Crowley’s scales rippled between his thighs with every roll of his hips, every movement, every rough fuck forward. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to come again, another startling shout and spasm around Crowley’s cock.

“That’s it,” Crowley hissed. “Just like that. You can come as many times as you like, angel. Come on my cock.”

Aziraphale gasped out with his pleasure. Crowley didn’t give him even a moment to rest; instead, he fucked Aziraphale right through his orgasm, and every drag of Crowley’s cock was becoming more and more intense. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure that he’d _stopped_ coming, the way that his body felt. He felt light, floating. All he wanted to do was accept Crowley deeper into his body. If Crowley wanted to fuck him all day, Aziraphale would _let_ him. Oh, he’d beg for it.

“You’ll never forget who you belong to, will you?” Crowley grinned something evil. His thrusts got _harder_ , then, if it were possible. Aziraphale took the full brunt of every, single thrust, the way that Crowley’s tail kept him in place. “You’ll never forget that I’m the only one who can bring you pleasure. You’re helpless without me.”

“Crowley, Crowley—” Aziraphale gasped. “I need you. You’re the only one. Please, please, fuck me. Fill me up. Come inside me—inside me, please. I need you!”

“You’re _mine_ , angel.”

“Yours, yours. I’m yours, Crowley. Please, please, I _need_ you—”

Crowley fucked into him once, twice more before he finally stuttered and gasped out. That was when the barbs hooked properly, kept Crowley’s cock nestled up inside of Aziraphale while he came. Oh, and he came. Aziraphale gasped with the feeling of it, the hot and sudden gush of it. Crowley was coming inside of him, with everything that he had. He’d leave Aziraphale feeling full and used, just the way he liked.

When it finally finished and the barbs let go, Crowley pulled out. There was a rush of slick from Aziraphale’s cunt, in which he’d found his third orgasm in the pleasure of Crowley’s. That, and the mix of Crowley’s seed. There were days when Crowley would revel in dipping down and running his tongue through that mess, to clean it up, push it back inside of Aziraphale. But Aziraphale was heaving and shivering with his sensitivity. Crowley wouldn’t be cruel to him.

Instead, Crowley rose up over Aziraphale’s body. The perk of having both cocks was that one would always be ready to go; it meant they could have sex for hours, provided Aziraphale was agreeable. The con, that wasn’t always the case in the instances Aziraphale wanted both cocks at once, was that one was always subsequently left out of the final orgasm. Crowley wouldn’t leave it alone, though.

No. Crowley found a pleasant little crevice of Aziraphale’s midsection and fucked into it, groaning at the rush of pleasure he got. He loved watching the way Aziraphale’s body would roll and shake with movement; fucking into it was something entirely different. When his cockhead brushed into the underside of Aziraphale’s tit, the fat of it shook; Crowley groaned at the sight of it.

It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to catch on, and he squeezed at his own skin to make a better, warmer place for Crowley to fuck. Crowley had never done this before, but Heaven, if it didn’t make Aziraphale feel used. If it didn’t make him feel _loved_. Crowley had lied about many things, but his love of Aziraphale’s body had never been one of them. Crowley looked at him and was so overwhelming aroused that he couldn’t help but want to bury his cock into Aziraphale’s fat.

When Crowley came, he made another mess on Aziraphale’s stomach. A nice, white spattering that had Aziraphale feeling warm and shuddering with joy. Then, and only then, did Crowley finally collapsed down onto the bed. A moment later, his tail uncoiled from Aziraphale’s leg and made a pleasing thump onto the floor when it landed. Much to Aziraphale’s particular joy, Crowley made no sudden move to shift down. He stayed like that, a snake tail instead of legs.

“You really do look wonderful like this, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. They would lay there for a few moments while Crowley collected himself. After, Crowley would clean them both up and settle them into bed. For that, Aziraphale hoped, desperately, that he’d keep this form.

“I’m glad you think so,” Crowley replied.

They rested for a moment. After, Crowley collected himself, and he cleaned them both up. There was a pleasant bath in which Crowley retracted down his demonic hands long enough to play his fingers over Aziraphale’s cunt, to help clean away the mess. Aziraphale, in turn, had spent an abnormally long time smoothing his hands and the soap over Crowley’s scales. The separation of them, where his cocks would appear, was where he spent the most of his time. He ran his lips over the slit, and Crowley breathed like he was buried down Aziraphale’s throat.

Once they were rested in bed and Crowley’s tail still hung out over the side, beneath the covers, Aziraphale scooted as closely to him as he could. Aziraphale had been fascinated with the speckled scales around his face and neck, and until that point, there hadn’t been a time to touch them. Now, Aziraphale had free reign to run his fingers over Crowley’s scales and smile at him.

“You did wonderfully, by the way,” Crowley said.

“I think you helped with that. I hadn’t expected such a response to your venom, of all things.”

Crowley gave a snort. “Nah. That wore off after the first few minutes, I think. I didn’t know how you’d react, so I didn’t want to overdo it.”

“Oh, Crowley. You can’t be seriously.”

“One-hundred percent,” he grinned. “You really are just that nasty.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale frowned. Crowley broke out into a laugh, instead, and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck to pull him down into a tight hug. He kissed Aziraphale’s head, and that was how they ended the night. Wrapped up in one another, where Aziraphale had always felt safest, and well on their way to a night well rested.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Smooches 𓆏  
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> 


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